Too Brave For Your Own Good
by FamilyGuyFanatic
Summary: During the search for Private Ryan, Wade can see the Captain is really ill, but when it becomes life threatening, the inexperienced medic is forced to test his skills to save his Captain's life. Rated T for gore.
1. Chapter 1

Too Brave For Your Own Good

As a medic, I'm used to most of the men in the Army trying to stay silent when they really should be telling medics that they are injured, because I've see it so many times. They, particularly the officers, seem to think that they are brave to keep their pain hidden - but they're not! If they just told a medic they needed help, they would get better so much faster, or, in the worst instances, stop them dying - which I think is much more heroic. I can't help feeling so mad about this issue, because my own captain is one of the worst offenders.

It all started last week, and, boy, has a lot happened to the Captain and his men - especially me, Irwin Wade - since then.

* * *

><p>"I still think this mission is bullshit." Private Reiben muttered moodily, swinging his BAR around by the strap. His voice was loud enough for everyone but Sergeant Horvath and Captain Miller to hear, which was probably a good thing, for they both were sick of him moaning about the mission that they didn't want to do either, but had no choice about it. "Why should we all die to save one bastard?"<p>

I straightened my helmet so the red cross faced forwards again - I do hate it when my helmet slips to the side! "I know, but shut up about it, please, you're doing my head in." I said, not feeling angry, just annoyed.

He raised his eyebrows - and voice - at me. "Sorry, Doc." He snapped with heavy sarcasm, causing Captain Miller to spin around and look at us. We were at the back of the group so, naturally, the other five turned around too.

"What are you two arguing about, Private?" He asked wearily. Whilst Reiben looked at his feet, I looked at the Captain, taking in how pale he looked, with the exception of the dark marks under his eyes. Neither of us spoke.

"They were arguing about the mission, Captain." Corporal Upham said nervously, obviously having overheard our conversation.

"Oh shut up, you eavesdropping bastard!" Reiben snapped at Upham, who stepped backwards behind Sergeant Horvath, looking characteristically terrified.

"I give the orders around here, Private." The Captain said firmly. "And I know you think this mission is pointless, but we have to do it, so shut up yourself." Looking totally pissed off, Captain Milelr carried on walking. I could tell, even from behind, that he was rubbing his right hand with his left fingers. I didn't know if anyone else knew, but I had noticed that his right hand trembled uncontrollably when he was stressed.

We all followed after him, Reiben walking right at the back. Having left camp early this morning, I watched my watch as three hours solid walking - except the fight - went by, and felt my legs start to tremble from walking mainly uphill the whole way. I was just wondering if anything interesting was going to happen to us - like actually finding Private Ryan - when the ominous rumbling sound of a tank suddenly broke into my daydream.

"Get down!" Captain Miller called, and we all fell to the ground, hiding in the long grass. He let out a quiet whimper as he landed, telling me he had just landed on his pistol - which is always quite painful. Staying as quiet as we could, all eight of us waited for the tank, which didn't come too near us or shoot, as disappeared from earshot. The Captain was the last to get to his feet; he got up with one hand rubbing his abdomen, the other shaking again.

"Are you alright, Sir?" I asked.

"I'm fine, Wade." He replied dismissively, and we carried on again.

But I wasn't convinced, and took to walking behind the Captain, watching him walk to see if anything was wrong. As our fourth hour walking passed, we still hadn't found any Americans - but at least we hadn't found any more German tanks. From the position of his left arm, I could see the Captain had taken to tucking his hand inside his jacket, and presumed that his stomach was still hurting from the fall onto his pistol. But what was worrying me was the fact that he was panting when all he wad doing was walking, which defiantly wasn't normal for a fit officer like him.

Quickening my pace to walk beside Captain Miller, I said, "Do you think we should stop for a rest, Sir, because everyone, including you, looks exhausted." I was trying to avoid directly talking about him, for the Captain might have got annoyed if I kept bugging him.

"I'm fine," Captain Miller assured me, quickly pulling his hand out from inside his jacket. "but it might be good for us to eat now, as we seem to be relatively safe." Everyone looking relieved, we all sat down in the long grass and dug out our dinner rations, which we began to eat. Reiben, still scowling, was the first to finish eating, so Captain Miller sent him to look for any water to fill our canteens with. This was when I noticed the Captain wasn't eating anything, and for the first time, I began to think there was something wrong with him that wasn't a pistol shaped bruise on his stomach. I didn't get a change to say anything, however, because Reiben returned saying there was a stream nearby, and I was sent off with him to fill everyone's canteens and purify the water using the tablets in my kit.

We didn't speak at all; Reiben just sat near me on the bank, filled up the canteens and passed them to me, and I dropped a water purification tablet into each of them. Upon finishing, we headed back, and walked straight into a conversation about the Captain's life before the war. Or, rather, a conversation which involved the others bugging Captain Miller about his life before the war, and him refusing to tell them anything - which was a very common occurence. The Captain was laughing as the others - particularly at Private Jackson, who was getting slightly annoyed by the way Captain Miller just dismissed their questions - begged him to tell them something, for each of them were desperate to win the betting money. But I noticed his hand was rubbing his abdomen again, and there was a muscle jumping in his jaw, showing me, and anyone who noticed it, he was very tense, most likely from trying to hide pain.

"Why aren't you eating, Captain?" I asked, sitting down next to Upham, my voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

Not meeting my eye, Captain Miller said, "I'm not feeling very hungry, Wade."

Knowing it wasn't a good idea to argue with a commanding officer, I remembered that medics do have a certain level of authority over soldiers, and even officers, and decided to press him for more answers, "But you have to eat, Sir, doesn't he, Sarge?" I insisted, looking to Sargeant Horvath for backup, which he, luckily, gave.

"The doc's right, Sir, you need to eat when you're walking so much."

"I'm fine, just leave it, OK." The Captain said slightly aggressively, but his hand was shaking again. He stood up, pulled his bag back on, and headed off across the field. Reiben, Jackson, Private Caparzo and Private Mellish all raised their eyebrows at each other, and Upham looked as though he wanted to call after him, but Sarge gave him a stern look. Hurriedly packing up our mostly finished rations, the seven of us followed after Captain Miller, keeping our distance.

As I trudged along beside the Sargeant, I whispered, "I'm really worried about the Captain, Sir."

Sarge patted me on the shoulder, "I'm sure he's OK, Doc," He attempted to reassure me, "He might just feel a bit sick." He sounded as if he didn't really believe himself, and I know I didn't.

As we all trekked along a few feet behind Captain Miller, I watched as he began to hunch over slightly as he walked, his gait becoming uneven, and felt an almost overwhelming desire to help him, because it was now obvious to everyone, not just me, that the Captain was in pain, and I can't ever bear to see someone suffer.

"I think we should ask the Captain if he's OK again." Upham spoke up.

"I think you should SHUT UP!" Mellish snapped at him.

I, and Sarge, distinctly heard Captain Miller yell, "What now?!", but Upham and Mellish didn't hear him, both of them were too busy looking terrified and angry, respectively.

"Why are you being so angry, it was only a suggestion?" Upham said indignantly, still scared, but unable to keep his mouth shut.

"Because you're a stupid little bastard who obviously doesn't know not to piss off a commanding officer when they're clearly in a bad mood!" Mellish shouted, looking dangerously close to hitting Upham.

"Well I'm your commanding officer and you always piss me off!" Upham shouted back, finally losing his temper with Mellish's constant abuse.

"That's different!"

"Why?!"

"Because you're a coward and a useless piece of f-"

"Shut up the pair of you!" Sarge hissed, "Has it occurred to you we're in a German occupied country, and any nearby Germans could hear you screaming at each other."

They both sighed and apologised to Sarge, but not each other. Mellish unclenched his fists, but Upham, seemingly involuntarily, pulled a smug facial expression, causing Mellish to lash out at him with his rifle. Upham jumped out of the way, and the butt of the rifle managed to hit the Captain, who had, unknown to us, walked back over, in the lower abdomen. Normally when someone is hit with a rifle butt, it hurts a bit, but Captain Miller cried out in agony and doubled over, both arms wrapped around his stomach.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Sir." Mellish babbled apologetically, but the Captain took no notice of him; he continued to make whimpering sounds that sounded like supressed sobs.

Hurrying over, I took his arm when I saw how wobbly his legs looked. "Captain, where does it hurt?" I asked, using my medic's voice I save for patients.

He raised his head and looked at me, allowing me to see how extremely pale he'd become, and I could tell he was ill immediately from the amount of sweat pouring off of his pale skin. All I could see in his overly bright eyes was pain, but he, obviously using all of his self-control, muttered firmly, "I'm fine, Private, really I am, so can you just leave it?" He'd said something very similar earlier, but now he didn't sound aggressive, just pleading.

I wanted to do something to help him so badly, but I didn't get to, for a German tank came over the nearby hill, and began firing on us. Once again using we were using the grass as cover, but we knew the tank had seen us, and had to take it out. After asking the Captain for permission, Jackson, our best shooter, loaded his rifle and, after only two shots, hit the tank in such a place it blew up, all the time muttering under his breath. We all congratulated him, and got up again. It took Captain Miller even longer this time, but he got to his feet despite the fact his knees nearly gave way twice (he's denied my offer to help him to stand up, insisting he could do it himself).

We had reached our sixth hour of walking and were now in a dense forest, everyone getting annoyed by gnats and mosquitoes constantly attacking our faces, and I was so distracted that I only realised the Captain had dropped back when I suddenly heard him cry out again. Spinning around and running towards him, I saw Captain Miller had fallen to his knees, and was breathing heavily, face screwed up, arms wrapped protectively around his torso, whimpering again.

"Captain?" I said, and he replied without opening his eyes,

"Just carry on with the mission, Doc, I'll catch up a few minutes - I just needed a rest." His voice was thick from clearly trying not to cry, and it wavered as he spoke. Realising I, and now the others, were still standing over him, the Captain hauled himself to his feet. "I'll come now, I feel fine." But he was fooling nobody; he only took a few steps before his legs gave way and he crashed to the ground. Landing heavily on his right side, the Captain suddenly vomited all over the dirt.

Absolutely terrified, I crouched down beside Captain Miller, helping him roll onto his back so he was away from the vomit, and looked straight into his half closed eyes. "Listen to me Sir," I said firmly. "There is something wrong with you, so tell me where it hurts."

"My...my st-stomach." He gasped, finally giving in. I asked if I could take a look, and he said yes, so I began to unbutton his jacket, and then his shirt, for he was so weak, and his had was shaking so much, that he couldn't do it himself.

What met me shocked me so much I was almost sick with fear. There was a deep, pattern bruise from the pistol, but my eyes went straight to his lower right (but my left) abdomen, where the skin was red and slightly raised, telling me there was severe swelling beneath it. "Oh shit." I said, dazed. "You've got raging appendicitis, Sir."

Upham looked petrified, Sarge was telling the Captain that I was going to make him better, and the other four were muttering "Oh shit." over and over again, until it became almost a chant. The Captain didn't speak, but a single tear rolled down his clammy face.

"Are you sure?" Upham asked fearfully, and for once Mellish and Reiben didn't snap at him for speaking.

"I can check, but it'll really hurt him." I told Upham, but the Captain nodded, silently telling me to do it. Taking a deep breath, I pressed my hand down on the swelling, and the Captain made a hissing noise as he inhaled sharply, but when I released the pressure, he nearly screamed, screwing his eyes up. "Yes, he's got it." I said sadly, and Upham looked like he was going to vomit.

"Will...I...d-die?" Captain Miller asked, shivering with a combination of fear and pain.

"I reckon if I leave it now, your appendix will have burst by the time we get you back to the hospital tent, and I don't have enough antibiotics to stop the infection-"

"Stop babbling, Doc." Sarge interrupted me, but he didn't sound agitated, just nervous.

"Sorry." I said, trying to get to what I was previously avoiding. "I think there is a one hundred percent chance you will die of blood poisoning, Sir." I felt a lump in my throat and swallowed hard to get rid of it - I was the medic, so I had to stay in control.

"There's got to be something you can do!" Mellish cried, looking close to tears. "He can't die, he just can't!" Caparzo, his best friend, tried to calm him down, whilst I was forced to focus on the Captain again, whose whole face was trembling with the effort of not breaking down.

There was only one option, but I didn't think I was a good enough medic to attempt it. "Well...I could remove the appendix, but-"

"What...are...my...chances?" The Captain's voice cracked, becoming high-pitched with suppressed emotion.

"I reckon about fifty-fifty." I replied truthfully, knowing there would be such a high risk of infection out in the open.

Captain Miller opened his watering eyes, and whispered, "Do it."

I sat in a daze for a few seconds, before snapping into action. "I'm just going to give you some morphine, Sir, so you'll be unconscious during the operation." I wished I'd never said that; _operation_ made everything sound so much more serious. Rummaging through my bag, I soon found I had no morphine left. "I didn't refill my bag - I haven't got any pain relief left." I thought aloud. "I'm sorry, Captain-"

"Still do it." Captain Miller insisted.

"But won't he die of shock?" Sarge asked me, clearly unable to believe that someone could have their appendix removed without any pain relief at all.

"I think it'll increase the chance of dying to about seventy five percent." I spoke with no emotion in my voice, because thinking about the Captain being awake during the operation made me want to cry for him , and I knew I had to stay in control. "OK, Sir, I'm afraid we'll have to pin you down to stop you moving around." Captain Miller nodded, so I got Sarge to hold down his right arm, Jackson his left, and Caparzo to sit on his legs. I had to undo his trousers and slide them, and his underpants, down to his hips so I could wipe antiseptic over the whole area, but the Captain was clearly past caring. After disinfecting my hands, I took my scalpel (Privates aren't issued scalpels, but I carry one in case of situations like this one) and disinfected it several times. "Braces yourselves." I said to everyone, and pressed the knife to Captain Miller's abdomen, piercing the skin.

The scream that escaped the Captain's mouth was full of pure agony; he fought against his restraints, right hand shaking so violently it blurred when I tried to look at it.

"Oh, God!" Captain Miller cried, trying to keep himself quiet. I withdrew the scalpel, provoking another scream from the Captain, tears now running freely down his white, sweat soaked face.

"Gag me." The Captain croaked, choking back his sobs. "I d-don't want t-to att-ract any Germans." Feeling completely helpless, I got Reiben to clap his hand tight over Captain Miller's mouth, and reluctantly continued.

Blood soon drenched my hands, and I thought I severed an arteriole, because blood began to spurt out of the now deep wound in time to the Captain's rapid, irregular heartbeat, showing me he was having palpitations. Stopping to wipe some of the blood away, I noticed the Captain was retching, and when his cheeks bulged, I knew he had vomited into his mouth, particularly when the sick began to seep through Reiben's fingers. Trying not to throw up himself, Reiben removed his hand, allowing Captain Miller to turn his head and spit it out onto the ground. When the Captain had finished, he let Reiben gag him again, and I continued, cutting down deeper into the Captain's flesh. Screams muffled by his gag, the Captain arched his back, kicking futily with his feet, the fingers of his left hand clawing the dirt, whilst his right shook more violently than I had ever seen before. When I finally removed the appendix, I wondered why the Captain was so still, and realised that he was unconscious. After stitching him up, Sarge helped me lift Captain Miller slightly so I could wrap tight bandages around his abdomen, and I scrubbed the blood off of me, before buttoning up the Captain's trousers, shirt and jacket. He was still out cold.

"Wow." Mellish said, breaking the silence. "How did you do that?"

I didn't know myself - I'm a field medic, not a surgeon! - so I just shrugged modestly. Rifling through my bag again, I found the antibiotics - there weren't enough to cure appendicitis, but there may have been enough to hold off blood poisoning until we could get the Captain to the hospital tent. Shaking the Captain's shoulders, I got no response, so I poured some water over his face, and he jerked back into consciousness, trying not to cry at the pain caused by the deep wound.

"A-am...I...dead?" He asked, looking at me, eyes wide with pain. The others let go of him, backing away so he could only see me.

"No, Sir." I whispered, you're alive." I smiled weakly at him. "Now, if we can sit you up slightly, Captain, I'm going to give you some antibiotics in case I've...infected you." That was hard to say, but I had to tell the truth.

He nodded, and Sarge raised his head up off the ground for him. Putting two tablets in his mouth, I held a canteen to Captain Miller's lips, and told him to drink as much as he could, because, although I didn't tell him this, there are some nasty side effects to those antibiotics involving the kidneys. We then layed him down again, watching him stare back at us.

"Thank you, Doc." He gave me a weak smile, doing a much better job of hiding the pain now, because it was much less intense. "You saved my life." He began to cry again, trying to wipe his face with his right hand, which was still trembling madly.

Wanting to cry myself, I smiled back at him, trying to ignore the voice in my mind telling me, 'You've saved his life _so far...'_


	2. Chapter 2

An almost deafening silence fell over us; I kneeled beside Captain Miller, head bowed, just listening to every ragged breath he took, for each one told me he was alive. When the Captain had composed himself, he asked the question that I was sure we all were thinking about,

"What are we gonna do now?" He looked up a Sarge, who shrugged lightly, silently telling him that none of us really knew.

It was Mellish, still shaking from his outburst, who spoke up. "Well we've gotta get the Captain to a field hospital, haven't we?" He looked to Caparzo, Jackson and Reiben, who all nodded fiercely in agreement.

"Defiantly, Sir." Reiben added. I wasn't sure if he was talking to Sarge or the Captain, and I don't think he did either.

"That really is the only thing we can do, Captain." I said, thinking the situation over in my head. "You need more medical treatment, and I'm not taking a patient who needs hospital treatment further into German territory." My voice tailed off as I realised how rubbish the only way to transport the Captain was, and I knew the others weren't going to like it.

Sarge noticed I was stalling. "So how are we going to get the Captain back to our camp, Doc?"

"We'll have to carry you, Sir." I informed the Captain, who looked too nervous about the prospect of moving with such a bad wound to answer back to me.

"That's ridiculous!" Reiben yelled.

"How are we expected to carry the Captain God-knows-how-many miles through this awful terrain?" Jackson protested.

"He must weigh at least at least two hundred pounds, and that's even heavier than carrying everyone's equipment at once." Mellish complained.

"How are you all being so selfish?" Upham cut in, staring disapprovingly at them. "The Captain's had a dangerous operation and is in so much pain - but you're only thinking of your-"

"Shut UP, Upham!" Mellish shouted at the Corporal, glaring at the man he hated so much.

"Be quiet!" Sarge hissed, but Mellish was just about to argue back, until:

"The last time I checked I weighed one hundred and eighty." The Captain added calmly, managing to diffuse the situation. Everyone turned to look at him. "The doc's right, it might be a shit one, but its our only option - unless I try to walk, that is."

I told him not to attempt it several times, but the Captain insisted he should at least try to walk, and tried to haul himself to his feet. Face contorting with pain, Captain Miller barely managed to sit up straight before the pain it caused overwhelmed him, and he passed out. This time I caught him, and lowered his again unconscious torso back to the ground, shaking my head at how ridiculously _brave_ he was being.

"Well, at least this should make it quiter to move him." Reiben joked lightly, and Sarge shot him a look, but, although I didn't voice my opinion, I did agree with him, for at least now Captain Miller wouldn't scream again, and possibly give us away. But at the same time, I dreaded him falling into unconsciousness or even sleep, for I couldn't guarantee if Captain Miller would ever wake up again. After a while, the others moved away from the Captain, and sat down, resting their tired legs in preparation for the long walk back, leaving me alone with my unconscious patient.

"Oh, shut up, the lot of you." Horvath groaned, successfully silencing a heated discussion between the others. They were still arguing about who was going to carry the Captain, but I wasn't really listening. "I'll carry him, I'm the strongest."

Reiben looked ready to argue back, but, luckily, he held hs tongue. Sarge was clearly stressed out - he was the closest to Captain Miller, so he was even more worried than I was - so Reiben could tell he would snap if wound up too much. Even though Sarge was really offended by their behaviour, I could see that the others weren't being selfish; they were still really worried about the Captain, but they were tired, and carrying someone is exhausting.

I carefully repacked my medical supplies into bith my bags, still crouched beside the Captain. Every few seconds, I found myself putting whatever I was holding down and taking his pulse. Even though I found his slow, weak pulse every time, I kept checking, for I was just so scared that he might suddenly stop breathing and die. I looked up, sensing that someone was watching me, and saw Sarge kneeling opposite me, his eyes focused on Captain Miller's white face.

"Are you OK, Doc?" He whispered, clearly not wanting the others to hear him.

I nodded, failing to resist the urge to take Captain Miller's pulse again, but I knew I wasn't convincing him. Quickly stuffing the last of my stuff back into the bags, I slung the bags back over my shoulders, and stood up, managing to get out of answering Sarge's question. I didn't want him to know how scared I was - I'm a soldier, I should be brave.

"Let's get a move on." Sarge called, so we all heard him. With my help, Sarge hauled the Captain into a fireman's lift, being extremely careful after I told him that doing that might rip the stitches out. Jackson carried Sarge's rifle for him, and Mellish took his bag, whilst Reiben carried the Captain's.

We headed back in the direcion of the camp. It was strange, because, when we'd been walking in the opposite direction, everyone was chatting, arguing, and was just loud in general, but now, we were silent. Well, until Upham spoke.

"What's gonna happen to the mission now?" He asked nervously, glancing at the Captain and the way his head bounced around as Sarge walked.

His head was immediately bitten off by Mellish, "Nothin's gonna happen, Upchuck." He snapped. "The Cap'n's gonna get better and we're gonna carry on this shitty mission again."

"It's Upham." The corporal insisted, looking put out. If I was him, I'd be used to this by now. "And I know that, I was just wondering whta would happen if the Captain didn't pull through-"

"Shut up - he's NOT gonna die, you bastard!" Reiben yelled, his face flushing with rage.

"But the Doc said it was fifty fifty-" He was correct, but, boy, he really didn't know how to keep his mouth shut.

"We know that, Upham," Sarge said, obviously trying to stay calm. "but we need to be optimistic about this." He grunted, shifting the Captain's body slightly on his shoulder.

"I actually said it was seventy five - twenty five," I corrected quietly, "But Sarge is right, we have to be positive. I don't want to think about the Captain dying." I heard my voice waver as I spoke, and swallowed hard. The Captain was like a fatehr to me out here, and I wouldn't be able to cope if he did die.

We left it at that, once again returning to silence. I listened to Sarge's heavy footsteps and laboured breathing, kniowing he must have been struggling to carry Captain Miller for so long. After over an hour of walking, I asked Sarge if he needed a rest, but, just as the Captain had done earlier, he insisted he was fine. What is it with soldiers being so _brave_?

So we carried on, when, suddenly, it began to rain, heavily. It only took seconds for us all to get totally soaked, our heavy unifroms soaking up the water like sponges.

"Bloody rain!" Caprazo moaned.

"French weather is so FUBAR." Reiben added. Upham, who still hadn't worked out what it stood for, just looked confused, which allowed a small wave of laughter to flow through the otherwise miserable group - even I laughed.

"This mission's FUBAR." Jackson whined.

Sarge shot him a look that said 'Don't start!', but he smiled slightly, clearly not being serious. I looked down, and saw his legs wobbling with fatigue.

"Sir, do you want someone else to take the Captain?" I asked, and he finally gave in.

After finding a tree that gave the smallest amount of shelter from the torrential rain, Sarge lowered Captain Miller to the ground, before stretching his stiff arms and wind-milling them to loosen up his shoulders. Judging by the way everyone fought for a space under the tree, it was obvious that they were all glad for a break. Whilst the others watched the rain bounce up off the ground, I undid the Captain's sopping uniform, groaning as I realised his dressing was damp, because I would now have to change it. I don't know why, but I decided to look up, and saw Upham wringing out his socks. I think it was because I was so nervous about the Captain, but anyway, the sight of him doing that made me burst into a hysterical laughing fit. Sarge, clearly shocked by the sight of his shy medic laughing so hard, stared at me, but, looking at Upham, he chuckled too.

When I finally stopped laughing, I set about changing the Captain's bandages, my hysteria disappearing as quickly as it arrived as I was faced with the stitches in his abdomen. Wrapping new bandages around his stomach, I copied Upham, and attempted to squeeze as much water from his shirt ad jacket as I could before doing them up again. Leaning back against the tree, I closed my eyes, so tired from all the stress, but I knew that this wasn't the time, or the place, to fall asleep.

We stayed there until the rain turned from downpour to drizzle, which was when Sarge decided we better get a move on again. Everyone groaned, but we got up - and stared at the Captain, wondering who would have to carry him this time. Whilst Sarge explained to the rest of the men that he was going to choose someone at random, excluding himself and me - he told Reiben, who had complained, that, as I was the one who saved the Captain's life, I shouldn't have to carry him too - I stared at Captain Miller again: he was incredibly pale, and the rain had made him even paler; his wet hair was plastered to his head; his uniform was drenched; and I could see, through his jacket, the lump that showed he was covered in bandages. But, as I looked at his half shut eyes - this was the scariest thing, because it made Captain Miller appear dead - their lids flickered, and slowly opened, showing us all his overly bright, blue eyes. He smiled weakly at me.

"Sarge." I said, and the Sergeant spun around, his face lighting up at the sight of the Captain being conscious again. The others crowded around him, each of them asking him how he was feeling. "Sarge carried you, Sir." I added, wanting the Captain to know who had helped him.

Giving Sarge a grateful smile, Captain Miller insisted he was walking this time, so, me and Sarge hauled him to his unsteady feet. He swallowed back a scream, but didn't faint this time. As Reiben and Upham had got picked, they both took an arm and pulled them over their shoulders, taking most of Captain Miller's weight for him, and, once again, we set off to get the Captain to hospital.

It soon became obvious that this really wasn't the best way to transport the Captain. He could barely move his legs without pulling painfully on his stitches, so Reiben and Upham had to walk incredibly slowly, which almost made them trip over their own feet. I had taken to walking just in front of the three of them, and frequently glanced over my shoulder to see if they were alright.

"How far is it now, Sarge?" The Captain asked weakly, barely able to raise his head. He was horribly clammy, and, if it was possible, he was even paler than earlier. Looking closer, I saw he was shivering, partly from wearing damp clothes, and partly from the shock and pain he was obviously still feeling.

"I think about four and a half hours, Sir." Sarge replied apologetically. Reiben groaned.

I think the Captain heard Reiben's groan of exasperation, because he tried to walk faster, screwing his face up to try and deal with the pain. But his knees soon buckled, and Reiben and Upham had to grab his arms tightly to stop him falling. When they realised Captain Miller's legs had no strength left, they helped him sit cross legged on the muddy grass. Hunching forwards as far as he could without pulling on his stitches, the Captain continued to shiver violently, totally out of energy. It sounded like he was crying.

"Captain?" Jackson called. He, Sarge, Mellish and Caprazo were about fifty feet in front of the rest of us, but, after Jackson glanced back, they all came over, looking concerned, and slightly irritated.

Crouching beside him, I placed my hand on his shoulder. He whimpered slightly in response, but didn't speak. "Sir?" I said uncertainly. I just wanted to help him, but there was nothing I could do - I had no pain relief or anything else that might make him slightly more comfortable.

"Captain, if you need a break, just tell us - don't wait until you're going to faint." Sarge pleaded.

Captain Miller looked up at him, his teeth chattering violently, and suddenly slumped against me, breathing heavily. Now semi conscious, the Captain stared at me, noticing how scared I looked.

"I'll be OK, Doc." He mumbled, slurring his words slightly as if he was drunk.

I wanted to cry - why was he so bloody brave? Reaching for his wrist, I took the Captain's weak and thready pulse, recoiling slightly at how cold his skin was. On top of everything else, he now had hypothermia!

After asking for permission, I carefully pulled the Captain's damp clothes off, leaving him just wearing his underpants and the bandages. Mellish picked up his helmet, and placed it on the Captain's head. I'm not sure why he did it, but the Captain gave him a weak smile. After refusing anyone elses clothes (which were useless, anyway, because we were all as soaked as him) he tried to stand up again, but when he managed to straighten up, he vomited violently all over the ground, whimpering in agony. But whilst Sarge and Jackson were trying to catch him before he fainted, I was only focused on his vomit, for it contained black, congealed blood. This was worse than I thought - and for once, my thoughts that the Captain was going to die seemed to be justified, for the blood was really, really bad news.

Standing up, I looked down at the again unconscious Captain, feeling completely helpless, and, this time, I was unable to contain my tears.


	3. Chapter 3

I stumbled backwards, scrubbing at my face with the back of my hand, but the tears kept leaking from my sore, aching eyes, the ache only getting stronger as my sobs got stronger. My vision blurring with all of the tears, I tried to keep my mouth shut, but the sobs got too much for me; even with a hand clamped over my mouth, when the cries began to escape, the others all heard.

"Doc?" It was Reiben. The private's voice was tentative, as if he was unsure of whether or not he should speak to me. "Are you crying?"

I wiped my eyes again, temporarily clearing my vision. My chest was so tight and my throat so sore that I didn't think I was capable of speech. So I just nodded, swallowing hard in a futile attempt to get rid of the lump lodged in my throat. It didn't work.

"Holy shit!" I looked up and saw Jackson crouched down beside the prone Captain, but he wasn't looking at Captain Miller's unconscious form. He was staring at the most disturbing thing in the immediate area – the vomit.

He bowed his head, and crossed himself. "Why's it black, Doc?" He said, raising his head and locking eyes with me.

I tried to get a grip on my emotions – soldiers don't cry, they stay strong even in the very depths of despair - but my head pounded, my eyes stung, and my chest felt like something was crushing my lungs – I just couldn't seem to draw a deep enough breath.

As I fought the urge to curl up on the ground and cry like a baby, I felt an arm snake around my shoulders. I turned my head, and came nose to tear-stained-nose with Upham. That immediately struck me as odd – Upham never seemed like the affectionate type to me – but the effect that the simple half-hug had on me was amazing.

I felt myself calming down, even though the tears were nowhere near stopping, and just looking at the Captain was enough to churn my stomach until I was almost sick. It reminded me of my mother, and the way she used to hug me and comfort me whenever I hurt myself as a kid. God, I missed her.

"Easy, Doc . . ." Upham was saying, in a calm, soothing voice much like the one I use when caring for sick people. "Just breathe."

I tried to do just that, and, finally, managed to stutter out the answer to Jackson's question. "B-blood."

"What?" Jackson said, raising his weary body to his feet. Sarge kept a shaking hand on the Captain's bare arm, but he too looked concerned, his eyes widening.

"What'd you say, Doc?" Mellish said, adjusting his bag from one shoulder to the other. His voice was at a higher pitch than usual, so much so that, had we been in any other situation, we all would have laughed at him. I saw Caprazo's lips twitch into a half smile, but he soon stopped when he realised what Mellish had said. Jackson crossed himself again; he must have understood what I meant.

I pulled off my helmet and ran my fingers through my hair – the only part of my body that wasn't soaked by the FUBAR rain. "B-blood. It's blood in his vomit."

"Fuck," Reiben mouthed, stumbling a little.

Sarge squeezed the Captain's white, goose bump covered arm, and closed his eyes. I watched him swallow so hard that his throat convulsed, and his head bow, just as Jackson's had done only a couple of minutes before. I wondered if he too was going to break down, and join me in the embarrassing world of crying in front of everyone.

Mellish patted Caparzo on the shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and Caparzo smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His hands were clenched into tight, trembling fists. Mellish's hand shook too.

I put my helmet back on. The tears were still flowing, and my throat still had the most hideous lump in it, making each swallow actually painful. But my chest no longer felt like it was going to implode, perhaps because of Upham's ever present, comforting arm still around my skinny shoulders.

"Ho-how?" Sarge said, looking up at me. His eyes glistened with unshod tears. "How is there blood, Doc? What does it mean?"

Suddenly, I realised that I should have been checking over my patient. Cursing myself under my breath, I ignored the question and stumbled over to where Sarge was sat, on his haunches, beside Captain Miler. I dropped to my knees and pressed my fingers against his neck. His skin was freezing cold to the touch and his pulse was weak and thread – but it was there, and that was what was important right now. At least, that's what I told myself.

"Doc?" A hand roughly shook my shoulder, jerking my whole body back and jarring my neck painfully – just like when I was in the car as a kid and my dad put the brakes on too fast.

Even though I could hear it was Sarge, and I knew that ignoring a commanding officer is never a good idea, I didn't respond. I couldn't. I just kept staring at Captain Miller's washed out, clammy face – particularly the way his lips were turning ever so slightly blue as his body temperature continued to drop – with my fingers still pressed against his neck, feeling his weakening pulse drum against my fingertips. It felt like if I let go, he'd die.

"Wade!" He shook me again, even harder. "What're you doing? Answer me, for fuck's sake."

"Doc?"

"Is he gonna pass out too?"

"Of course not, you idiot!"

"Wade?"

"What's wrong with him?"

I heard the others take steps towards me, until a shadow fell over Captain Miller, and they were all so close that I could actually _feel _the heat – or lack of – radiating off of their bodies. Particularly Upham's , because he had a hand on my shoulder again. He squeezed lightly, echoing the same action that Sarge had done to the Captain only a few minutes earlier. It helped, but not as much as before.

But it was enough for me to answer the Sergeant, even though I didn't look up or let go. I wasn't up to that yet. "S-sorry, Sir," I took in a huge, gasping breath; my lungs didn't seem to want to do it naturally. "The blood means there's . . . in-internal bleeding. It's black because it's congealed."

Upham heaved a sigh and let go of me, getting to his feet. "So he is going to die, isn't he?" He said, his voice wobbling.

For a moment, I thought that no one was going to shout him down, but then . . .

"Shut the fuck up, Upchuck!" Reiben shouted, prompting a hissed reminder from Sarge about the fact we were in a German occupied country.

"...which, shock horror, is full of, you've guessed it, Germans! So can you keep your bloody voices down, _please?_" Sarge finished, his voice low, but still biting and heavily sarcastic.

I didn't look up at him, but, judging by the way his voice trembled and how he spat out the word 'please', he must have been pretty red. I hadn't seen him this angry before, and I found my heart beating just a bit faster, my chest tightening again until my struggle to breath returned. I was scared of him.

I was scared of Sergeant Horvath. Swallowing hard, I pressed my fingers harder against Captain Miller's neck, my fingers sinking into his soft, pale flesh until they made contact with one of the ligaments in his neck. This made his pulse feel stronger, and I managed to kid myself that the Captain was getting better, and not worse. That's how messed up I was right then.

But I couldn't help it. How the hell was I scared of Sarge? It made me feel so weak and pathetic to think that I was scared of someone just because he got angry. Everyone gets angry now and then, but that never scared me. I sighed, and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

"Sorry, Sir, but I'm just so sick of _him _saying that the Cap'n's gonna die," Reiben was saying, digging the tip of his filthy boot into the mud.

When I finally tore my gaze from Captain Miller for a few seconds, I looked up, and saw that Reiben was hanging his head, but his cheeks were flushed and his eyes wide in what I guessed was surpassed angry. Sarge looked much the same, except his eyes were boring right into Reiben's face.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, blowing air up his face, and rubbed his damp eyes."I know, Reiben," He said wearily. "So am I – hell, I'm pretty sure we all are—" Several of the others nodded; Upham hung his head. "—but he's got a point."

"No he hasn't, Sir!" Caparzo interjected, shooting Upham an awful glare.

I had to look down again, the fear getting the better of me. If it was possible, the Captain's face looked paler and his lips looked bluer than they had only a minute earlier. I shook my head hard, making my helmet slip to the side, convinced that I was losing my mind.

"He has," I said, in a voice that wasn't quite a whisper, but still so quiet that I could barely hear myself. But I was still heard.

"What?" Caparzo spat, taking a step towards me until his boots were touching the Captain's bare leg, smearing it with mud. I fought back a groan, clenching my jaw.

I inhaled with such force that rupturing my intercostal muscles seemed a likely outcome. "Upham has a point," I said, my voice stronger, but still shaking.

"Doc, no," Mellish gasped, and Sarge patted my shoulder.

"You can't agree with that bastard, Doc," Jackson said, and I knew that he was crossing himself without needing to look. Not that I could, even if I wanted to; again, my eyes were trained on Captain Miller's pale, washed out face. I took his pulse again – it was still there. He was still alive.

"Trust me, Jackson, I don't want to any more than you do." I said, readjusting my wonky helmet. I could feel the wetness of the muddy ground soaking through my pant legs, and a shiver rang through my body. If I felt cold, then how cold must the Captain have been?

"Then don't," Jackson said. "Just be positive, Doc. Please."

I sighed, and tried again to swallow, but the lump got the better of me. "I want to be, but you don't understand. Internal bleeding is real bad news – I don't know where the fuck he's even bleeding, and, even if I did, how do I stop it—"

"Doc?"

"And if that wasn't bad enough, he's got fucking hypothermia and he's unconscious and—"

"Doc!"

"— he's suffering massive blood loss and, and—"

"Wade!" Sarge's hands were on my shoulders, shaking my body and cricking my neck even worse than before. My eyes were torn from Captain Miller's body (not _body –_ that makes it sound like he was dead) – my eyes were torn from Captain Miller's unconscious form, and I found myself face to face with the Sergeant.

His eyes were wide as he stared me down, staring straight at me and telling me to calm down. At least he was until my eyes filled with tears and his face looked like the image inside a kaleidoscope. And then his arms were wrapped around me and my face was pressed against his sodden jacket.

My eyes stung and my throat burned, but crying this hard felt so good, like I was getting a huge weight off of my chest. I could even breathe easier already, if a bit hoarsely.

"It's alright, Doc," Sarge said, patting my back. "It's alright . . ."

But his comforting words did nothing to soothe me, and, as I cried into his chest, I reached out blindly and found the Captain's muddy, freezing cold wrist. After a bit of fumbling, I managed to take his weak pulse, which did more for me than Sarge's words ever could.

But it wasn't enough to keep away the thought that Captain Miller might be dying.


End file.
